Electric Silence
by RebbieChan
Summary: Cartinelli bed sharing fluff


Quiet.

Staring into her eyes was quiet. It was soft. It was sudden. It was slow. Time had fixed them in place, just staring. Everything that came before and everything to come after fell away.

This wasn't the first time Peggy shared a bed. Some in situations more…traditionally intimate. This, whatever this was, was more intimate than any messy moment with boys. Not that there ever had been many. That questioning part of her, the part that insisted on being confused while every other part simply knew, tried to compare. But sharing a bed with Colleen had always been out of necessity of owning only one and always kept back to back. Never facing each other, watching each other with tentative long breaths or with their hearts beating like and animal's paws on the earth while stalking its prey. Never so contently on edge.

Peggy hadn't known Angie would be home so soon when she laid down, exhausted, for a quick nap. Angie likely hadn't known she was home at all, until she passed her room and saw her turning and crying in her sleep.

She woke from her nightmare with Angie's hand on her forehead and her arm. Peggy didn't often have nightmares about the war, and she told her so to calm the worried look on Ange's face. She didn't want to talk about it and Angie said they didn't need to.

Now, there they were, laying together, very much feeling like something was happening that very well may not. It was as if she were breathing her. Nothing would break this spell. The setting sun brushed out from behind the clouds and through her window, coating them in yellow-orange. What would this be once night falls and stars become their only light?

Angie reached across the space between them and in that moment she felt as if she couldn't breathe. She brushed a few loose strands of hair out of Peggy's face, before letting her hand rest in that middle space.

That part of her, that questioning part, tried to tell Peggy that this was nothing more than Angie being worried about her, her friend. But that slightest of touches felt electric and that look in her eyes had to mean something. With her mouth not running, there must have not been any words that she could say. Ladies were not supposed to say such things to each other.

Peggy lowered her eyes. Wishful, childish thinking the questioning part told her. Carefully, as if she moved to fast Angie would dart away, she interlocked their fingers in the space between them.

Angie's hands were soft, with a bit of hardness underneath. They told a story of hard work and care. Holding her hand shot warmth up her arm. Her lips parted, feeling sure and unsteady. She looked up to find Angie's eyes had stayed on her and her lips had formed the smallest of smiles.

She cast her eyes away. The real question might have been where she wanted this to lead. Her heart beat a little faster as she shifted to take Angie's other hand into her own. They were a little smaller than hers' though not by much. Where did she want this to lead? Peggy played with her hands, her heartbeat seeming to feed through her bones like a silent drum. She wasn't usually one to be shy.

Peggy knew there were things she would like. There were things she wanted that would make the questioning part of her blush. That little part of her dared to ask that this was what she meant when she asked Angie to live with her? No, just a little. Well, maybe it was exactly what she meant. Just not what she expected. Peggy was a woman who knew what she wanted, the thing was what she wanted she almost never got.

The question was, in this heart racing serenity, what did she want in this moment?

Angie shifted closer, gave Peggy's hands a squeeze and pressed her lips to her forehead. Peggy closed her eyes to take it in, opening them when Angie pulled away. They were closer now, just a few inches apart.

This was a dangerous game of chicken they were playing. It was later now, the sun a little lower in the sky expressing different colors. Somehow it had taken both of them this long to figure that out. So Angie waited, the ball in Peggy's court.

She moved her hand up to brush the hair from Angie's neck and cupped her face. Peggy wanted nothing more than for Angie to kiss her again, but she wouldn't until she got one in return.

It would be easy. A simple kiss on the cheek. Seemingly innocent enough, yet just enough to start a game of exchanging kisses that traveled closer and closer to meeting each other's lips, where they no longer could take it back. It would mean something then. Then, the meaning of this moment couldn't be denied or brushed off.

Peggy stared into Angie's eyes. She wasn't expecting anything, or if she did, she hid it well. Angie simply enjoyed…this, as whatever this was. The tension between the rest of her and that questioning bit faded. Right now, there didn't need to be a meaning and since she had that little part in her, there probably shouldn't.

Silently, possibly unintentionally, Angie told her it was okay to not be ready. It was okay to not be as sure as she wanted to be. In that moment, Peggy was surer than ever.

Peggy pressed their foreheads together. Angie was more than her friend and more than a crush. She nuzzled under her chin until Angie let out a little laugh. Peggy rested her head between Angie's neck and shoulder, feeling their breathing match each other's pace, still holding hands as they fell asleep.


End file.
